Rise of the Underdogs: VALIK

VI

“So, the Goddess’ name is Artemis, and you’re just… on loan to me?” I asked as I sat conversing with Ehno.

He nodded, his head now glistening chocolate under the ethereal light we were surrounded by. The glow wasn’t harsh—it was soft, like moonlight filtered through ancient trees. It bathed everything in a silvery warmth, casting gentle shadows that danced across the mist-covered ground.

“She is the Goddess of the Hunt,” Ehno said, his voice steady, reverent. “We wolves were and continue to be her companions. Between the human people we are born to we stay in her lush garden on Olympus.”

I blinked, trying to imagine it. A garden not of roses and fountains, but of wild groves and sacred silence. A place where spirits ran free beneath the stars, watched over by a goddess who understood the balance between wildness and peace.

“She tends us,” Ehno continued, his gaze distant, as if remembering. “She sends only her most deserving to be reborn and welcomes us home at the end of our term.”

The word term echoed in my chest. It wasn’t a sentence—it was a cycle. A sacred rhythm. Life, service, return.

“Do you remember it?” I asked softly. “Her garden?”

Ehno’s blue eyes shimmered, reflecting something older than memory. “I do. It’s quiet there. Not empty—just… whole. The wind sings through the trees. The moon never wanes. And every wolf knows they are loved.”

I swallowed hard, the image settling into me like a prayer. I wasn’t just bonded to a spirit. I was part of something divine. Something ancient. Something meant.

“I didn’t know about that. The divinity of it all, I mean. I had no idea so much thought and care went into each wolf’s selection before being sent to their human half,” I said, my voice firmer now, steadier. The weight of it all was beginning to settle into my bones—not as a burden, but as a truth I could finally carry.

Then another thought hit me. A darker one.

“What about Austin’s wolf?”

Ehno’s gaze dimmed slightly, the shimmer in his eyes flickering like a candle in wind.

“Our human side can still shift if the spirit dies. The human simply loses control after they force us into dormancy and death,” he said softly, each word laced with sorrow.

Scowling, I looked at him, my head tilted in confusion. “The spirit could die before the human?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Especially after the human defies the Goddess’s edicts and laws.”

The air around us grew heavier, the fog thickening just slightly, as if the dream itself mourned the truth. I felt a chill crawl down my spine—not from fear, but from understanding. Austin hadn’t just been cruel. He had been unnatural. A violator of sacred law. A destroyer of something divine.

“So… he defied the Goddess and lost his spirit, but what happened to the spirit? Did they return to the garden?” I pressed, my voice low, almost afraid of the answer.

Ehno nodded, but his expression darkened, the shimmer in his eyes dimming like twilight settling over a sacred grove.

“Yes and no,” he said. “Those of us who are not treated with the reverence and care we deserve often spend time in solitary parts of the garden to heal and work through the damage.”

I imagined it—wounded spirits wandering through moonlit paths, tended by Artemis’s quiet grace, trying to remember who they were before the pain.

“Shade, your sire’s wolf, was long gone,” Ehno continued, voice heavy with sorrow. “He was far too damaged to survive, so Lady Artemis had to… let him go.”

The words hit like a stone dropped into still water. Let him go. Not sent back. Not reborn. Just… released.

“We all lamented his loss,” Ehno said, his gaze distant now, as if remembering a night that never ended. “Howling at the eternally full moon in sadness as his body faded forever from existence.”

I saw it in my mind—dozens of wolves, their voices rising in unison, echoing through the garden like a hymn of grief. The moon above them unwavering, full and bright, bearing witness to the passing of one of her own.

Shade hadn’t just died.

He had been unmade.

Erased from the universe, but not from memory.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words trembling out of me like mist.

Ehno looked at me then, really looked. His blue eyes held no judgment—only depth. Only understanding.

“The fault is not yours to shoulder, Valik,” he said, voice low and steady, like the wind through ancient trees. “Shade’s fate was sealed by choices that were never yours to make. You carry enough. Let this one go.”

I nodded slowly, the ache in my chest shifting. Not vanishing but softening. I hadn’t known Shade. But I felt the echo of his pain, the weight of his absence, the sacred silence he left behind.

And somehow, knowing he was mourned, knowing the thousands of wolves living in the garden howled for him, made the world feel a little more just.